


I missed you...

by vivilove



Series: Dialogue/Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attraction, F/M, His parentage is known, King Jon visits the Vale, Sansa is still stuck in the Vale with LF, Secret Identity, idk how it just is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-17 14:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21056222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Once he's had a day to settle at the Eyrie, King Jon finds himself increasingly intrigued and enchanted by the lovely Alayne Stone not knowing he's already offended her by not recognizing her.





	I missed you...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castalya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I suppose I shall have to keep you warm then](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907791) by [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove). 

> For @castalya's dialogue prompt 'I missed you, I thought I wouldn't see you again.'
> 
> Consider this a continuation or remix of the earlier dialogue prompt 'I suppose I shall have to keep you warm then' but from Jon's POV.

An unexpected kingship had had him preoccupied not to mention the potentially unwinnable war for humanity that looms. Half the lords and ladies present had snickered behind their hands as he’d spoken. The other half hadn’t bothered to hide their amusement.

Admittedly, it is fantastical sounding but do they truly believe a newly appointed king would have journeyed so far only to tell them bedtime stories their wet nurses might’ve frightened them with as babes?

The entire time he’d been speaking, he’d been chiding himself for leaving the North at such a crucial time to court these fools and would-be allies who still thought their game of thrones was more important than this war. He’d grown sullen and angry and wondered if perhaps he was the fool for coming by the time the talk concluded.

So, no…he’d not paid much attention to Lord Baelish’s bastard daughter in the hall upon his arrival. Alright, he had allowed his eyes to sweep over her a time or two as she’d been studying him as well. A pretty face and blue eyes like summer skies, he’d heard Alayne Stone was a beauty. But he’d told himself he had no time for distractions.

But then, he finds himself distracted all the same.

He wakes the morning after his arrival unsettled and downhearted from dreams of the past, dreams from his boyhood. Sweet dreams from a far sweeter time though he’d not fully appreciated it then. Being the bastard son of Ned Stark had not been easy but he’s come to realize how much better he had it than most.

He’d recalled the people he loved most in his dreams though he fears they are all lost to him now. They are still his family even if he’s not Ned Stark’s son and even if his half-brothers and sisters are actually his cousins.

The halls of Winterfell feel empty without the people who had made it his home but he’d rather be there than here in the Eyrie for the next moon.

Suddenly feeling unable to breathe in the chambers he was given, Jon throws on his clothes and cloak and seeks the outdoors. He finds his way through this unusual castle to its unusual godswood, a godswood with no heart tree nor any proper trees.

And it’s there his distraction awaits in the person of Alayne Stone.

Fresh snow has fallen during the night. It’s still falling though lightly and he watches the girl wrapped up in her cloak and squatted down on the ground molding a castle of her own, a castle made of snow.

She doesn’t see him. She’s so intent on her task. He admires the walls and rounded tower she’s just erected but he’s soon admiring her more. She is truly a beauty and there’s a sweetness in her expression when she’s here and thinks herself alone that touches his heart.

Her cheeks are growing redder along with the tip of her nose. He’d like to warm her though he shouldn’t. A strand of dark brown hair is hanging loose from the hood of her cloak. It’s wet from the snow but long and lush looking. Her eyes are bright with the reflection of the snow but he thinks they might be brightened from her task even more.

Her pink tongue is poking out between her white teeth as she concentrates on the next tower. It’s rather endearing. The tower’s a bit lopsided, almost broken. Is that intended? It’s hard to tell when it’s only made of snow.

“Alayne, whatever are you doing?” an unctuous voice says from somewhere out of sight. “It’s terribly cold out.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, I need you to come inside. I have tasks for you beyond building snow castles, sweetling.”

The girl rolls her eyes to herself and rises, wiping off her hands and leaving her castle unfinished. “Yes, Father,” she says with one last look of regret at her creation.

She never sees Jon watching her and he keeps his silence. He’d finish her castle for her if he could but he does not know what she dreams of. He only sees a partially built Winterfell but that could not be.

Alone in the godswood with no gods, he’s left with a burning desire to see her again.

_I shouldn’t though._

It would be unwise to become enchanted with this girl. He’s been thoroughly warned to watch himself when it comes to Lord Baelish and that likely goes for his daughter as well.

Unfortunately, becoming enchanted by her is exactly what happens.

She’s never near him. Not since that first day when he’d arrived has she been within twenty paces of him. It frustrates him and makes him hungry for any little glimpse of her.

In the hall during meals, she’s placed nearer the salt. Does Littlefinger always have her sit there? She seems well respected by the inhabitants of the Eyrie from what he’s managed to learn. Surely, she sits by her father’s side ordinarily. Jon had always dined with his family during feasts except for that one feast, the one attended by a king. Is that why Lord Baelish has her there? Does he fear her presence might offend him as he was told Lady Stark feared his presence might offend King Robert and Queen Cersei?

Looking back, he wonders if that was truly Lady Catelyn’s concern or if it was Lord Stark who did not wish for Robert to take too much notice of Rhaegar’s secret son. And why does that leave him with a strange sense of disquiet with regards to Alayne?

Still, he feels a kinship with the girl, recalling what it was like growing up as a bastard amongst the high born, the true born. He wishes he could speak with her. He wishes to hold her hand. He shouldn’t.

_Alayne_. Her name echoes in his head as he seeks his rest a few nights later.

He should not think on her so but today he’d missed seeing her in the hall when he’d broke his fast. Luck was with him though for he’d stumbled across her in the library soon after. He may have been looking for her. He may have made inquiries. He was only curious.

She didn’t see him and perhaps part of him is afraid of facing her, afraid of actually making a connection of sorts, afraid he’ll lose his heart to her if he does.

So once more, like a mischievous boy eavesdropping on something that isn’t his business, he’d watched from a hidden spot as she’d sat with a forgotten book by her side, hugged her knees to her chest and started to sing. Her singing…it had been both bitter and sweet. Her voice was lovely and true but the song had made him melancholic. It had brought Ygritte to mind in a way but that wasn’t entirely it. It had tugged at some memory, something deep down struggling to make itself known. What was this?

And once more, just when he’d thought perhaps he would reveal himself and speak with her, she’d been called away by her wretched father. Jon hadn’t liked the way the man had stroked the girl’s cheek and whispered in her ear. She’d hurried away as if she’d been chastened from her father and Jon’s sword hand had been clenched in anger as he’d strode out of the library soon afterwards. What was it about Littlefinger and his daughter that made him so uncomfortable?

She’s bewitched him without even knowing it. He must control this. He cannot allow himself to become besotted with some girl when he’s here for a very specific purpose.

But a few nights later, his resolved is tested most painfully.

He’d thought he’d had her figured out. He’d feared her father had sent her to seduce him for whatever reason. He’d thought to teach her a lesson and show her the King in the North was not to be trifled with and no fool.

_But I am a fool._

“Sansa?”

He’s far too astonished by the revelation to pay much mind to the hot soup soaking through his breeches. Her laughter after she’d doused him had stirred a dozen distant memories and at last his mind had finally puzzled out why.

And a moment ago, he’d been tempted beyond measure to bed Littlefinger’s bastard daughter despite knowing what a horrible idea that would be strategically speaking.

_Gods, so tempted._

But she’s not Littlefinger’s bastard daughter. She’s Sansa Stark, true born daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark and a girl he’d grown up believing was his half-sister. _She’s not though, she’s my cousin._

“You remember me now, do you?” she asks and there’s no mistaking the hurt in her voice.

How can he have been so blind?

“Of course, I do.”

Gods, does he ever. Sansa in her pretty dresses, forever following Lady Stark around the castle, so eager to please her lady mother. Sansa being followed around by her septa and being drilled with her courtesies as surely as Ser Rodrik had drilled him and Robb with sword, bow and lance. Sansa who only ever called him her half-brother once she’d learned of the distinction between him and his half-siblings. Sansa who never felt like his sister the way Arya did.

Nevertheless, he’s missed her. He loves her. She’s part of him and he’s part of her and they have so little left.

_But when you thought she was Alayne…_

Seven hells, what would his uncle do to him if he knew the thoughts he’d entertained in the dark of his bedchambers regarding Alayne?

“Sansa, I’m so sorry but I’m…what are you doing here? Why is your hair dyed? Why are you pretending to be something you’re not?”

Once she’s finished telling him, he’s incensed. No, it’s more than that. He’s trembling with rage. Baelish is far fouler than he’d believed. He’d like to strangle the man with his bare hands.

“I’ll get you out of here. I’ll take you home,” he swears. He means it.

But when she rushes into his arms, nuzzling against his cheek tenderly and whispering fervently, “I missed you, I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” he’s confused by the things he feels, by that stirring in his chest and elsewhere.

Littlefinger obviously had plans for her but what does she want? Isn’t that a good question. She’d seemed to want him too when he’d been making his sorry attempt at seduction in the name of figuring her out. There’s no need for games now. She’s his family. He can take her home as his kin.

_Or, I could take her home as my wife,_ a voice within says.


End file.
